


Is

by narikalen



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-03
Updated: 2007-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 08:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/174902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narikalen/pseuds/narikalen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is

It starts like this. Once, there was a seed. A truth. An ocean. An atom. A thought hits another thought, and we are born. Reborn. We live, grow with each new passing, die at the same time. It's hard, sometimes, to remain what we started out as. A little death in every detail, and a little life in each new breath.

Time passes strangely for the likes of us. It's hard, to keep track. Sometimes, we come, flying past lips too quickly to coalesce before we're moving again, and time seems to stand still. Sometimes, it's slow, eons passing before we see the light of the feeble sun again, or the hear crackling spit of fire.

Every time, something changes, is a little different. Who we are, what we are, changes, just a little bit. Occasionally, nothing seems amiss, just a small detail bent this way or that. Other times, our essence changes, the very nature of what we are, what we were meant for. And that's okay; that's just evolution. We are fluid, we are change. Never the same twice, never repeated quite right. We are constant, we are erratic; we move, we shift, we stay, we sleep.  
It's not time we fear, not life, or death. We change, we are fluid; we live, we die, all in one breath, in a single frozen moment.

What is gone cannot be brought back, can only be reborn again. We laugh, we sigh, sorrow, pain, joy, _life_ ; we give it all, and we claim it back upon our essence at the end of each telling. There is no time to stop, no time to fear, be afraid, our existence is eternal. As eternal as thought remains, at least. And when we cease, there is nothing. Time does not pass, not truly. There is only oblivion. Only forgettance. Until we are spoken again.

There are no ever afters, just a never-ending series of cliffhangers, waiting. The next moment. The next breath. Call us again, again, again. We rush past countless lips, we scroll past nameless eyes. And in between, we wait. We wait for the first moment, we wait for a breath. We wait for ever after.

There is a story here.


End file.
